itor to men's blood, and no sparer of mine own
in a friend's jeopardy. But, fool, child, I am a thief by trade and
birth and habit. If my bottle were empty and my mouth dry, I would rob
you, dear child, as sure as I love, honour, and admire your parts and
person! Can it be clearer spoken? No."

And he stumped forth through the bushes with a snap of his big fingers.

Dick, thus left alone, after a wondering thought upon the
inconsistencies of his companion's character, hastily produced,
reviewed, and buried his papers. One only he reserved to carry along
with him, since it in nowise compromised his friends, and yet might
serve him, in a pinch, against Sir Daniel. That was the knight's own
letter to Lord Wensleydale, sent by Throgmorton, on the morrow of the
defeat at Risingham, and found next day by Dick upon the body of the
messenger.

Then, treading down the embers of the fire, Dick left the den, and
rejoined the old outlaw, who stood awaiting him under the leafless oaks,
and was already beginning to be powdered by the falling snow. Each
looked upon the other, and each laughed, so thorough and so droll was
the disguise.

"Yet I would it were but summer and a clear day," grumbled the outlaw,
"that I might see myself in the mirror of a pool. There be many of Sir
Daniel's men that know me; and if we fell to be recognised, there might
be two words for you, brother, but as for me, in a paternoster while, I
should be kicking in a rope's-end."

Thus they set forth together along the road to Shoreby, which, in this
part of its course, kept near along the margin of the forest, coming
forth, from time to time, in the open country, and passing beside poor
folks' houses and small farms.

Presently at sight of one of these, Lawless pulled up.

"Brother Martin," he said, in a voice capitally disguised, and suited to
his monkish robe, "let us enter and seek alms from these poor sinners.
_Pax vobiscum!_ Ay," he added, in his own voice, "'tis as I feared; I
have somewhat lost the whine of it; and by your leave, good Master
Shelton, ye must suffer me to practise in these country places, before
that I risk my fat neck by entering Sir Daniel's. But look ye a little,
what an excellent thing it is to be a Jack-of-all-trades! An I had not
been a shipman, ye had infallibly gone down in the _Good Hope_; an I had
not been a thief, I could not have painted me your face; and but that I
had been a Grey Friar, and sung loud in the choir, an